


jealousy, baby jealousy

by dianying (orphan_account)



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: #Justice4Jake'sShirt, Jealousy, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Venom, Tentacles, that's sort of a lie, venom fucks eddie angrily because he's jealous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 13:52:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16265531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/dianying
Summary: Alien symbiotes get jealous quite easily.





	jealousy, baby jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> venomeddie grabbed me by the neck and forced me to do this 
> 
> title from jealousy by monsta x 
> 
> disclaimer: this is trash!!!, i have no beta, this is basically practice writing alien porn so! lmao!!!!
> 
> edit: thank you for 1000+ kudos!!

It begins rather innocently, as most things begin.

It begins with Venom, alien symbiote, upset with Eddie Brock, human and host for Venom, alien symbiote.

 _Hey buddy, are you mad at me?_ he asks in his head as Jack—Jake?—fumbles with the lock of his door, one hand snaked around Eddie’s waist and teasing at the waistband. There’s no answer from the symbiote. Jake or Jack finally gets the door open and drags Eddie close.  
The door is left slightly ajar as Jake or Jack pushes him against the wall right in the hallway, right against the light switch—the lights all turn on—fingers scrabbling at the mesh shirt Eddie wore to the club in a last-ditch attempt to get someone into his bed.

Venom told him it looked trashy.

Jake or Jack takes one look at the ties holding the shirt together, and rips it off. It’s oddly hot. Except now he doesn’t have a shirt. And then that thought is discarded when Jake or Jack says, “Sorry about your shirt,” in that really husky hot sex god voice that Eddie had been initially attracted to in the dim bar.

Eddie grins back and says with all the sex god he didn’t know he possessed, “You can make it up to me by fucking me really fast on hmmm the nearest surface, (mumble that could be Jake or Jack),”

And fuck him on the nearest surface Jake or Jack _did_.

So maybe Jake or Jack looks at him a little weirdly when Eddie asks him to pin his wrists to the dining table. He still fucks Eddie hard and fast and rough and it’s very sloppy and _good_ like he remembers sex to be like. Like he missed, those few months after Anne and in the beginning with his alien symbiote brain roommate. He still _fucks_ Eddie, moaning half-praises as he rocks sharply into Eddie’s body.

 _Big dick_ , Eddie notices. Splits him open on the right side of painful, the edge of the table digging marks into his thighs. Jake or Jack jacks him off raggedly as his breath hitches, Jake or Jack’s hips stuttering like he’s about to come. Then he does, into the condom, and Eddie over Jake or Jack’s hand.

And then they’re kissing again— “Up for round two in a sec?” “ _Yes_ ,” —and Eddie presses Jake or Jack against the staircase, gets his hand around the both of them and jerks them off, rough and fast. Jake or Jack bites at Eddie’s collarbone and Eddie doesn’t complain, tipping his neck back obligingly.

Jake or Jack looks up after a few minutes of heavy breathing, smile dancing on his lips as he asks, “Wanna take a shower before you leave?” Of course, the _together_ goes unsaid, but Eddie relishes in peeling Jake or Jack’s shirt off his body as they stumble up the stairs like a couple of drunk teenagers.

There’s more groping than showering in the shower, but when they’re starting to prune, Eddie pumps the shampoo bottle and works his fingers through Jake or Jack’s hair. It reminds him of Anne. _Hookups shouldn’t end up like this_ , he thinks, but Jake or Jack washes his hair too and they stumble out of the shower smelling like apples and clean and _wet_.

Jake or Jack lends Eddie a shirt, oversized and old with some band’s logo printed in the front, and scribbles his number on Eddie’s arm. “Call me the next time you wanna... have coffee.” _Have sex_ , is what he means, obviously, by the way he licks his lips.

Eddie waves. “Thanks for the shirt,” he says in return, “I’ll give it back next time we... have coffee.” And he ambles down the street back toward his trash apartment, leaving Jake or Jack’s brightly lit townhouse behind. He walks, head silent.

“Venom?” he asks out loud now, feeling strangely lonely. It’s only him and the glowing street lamps, after all.

No answer.

He touches the mark Jake or Jack— _still_ doesn’t know his name—left on his neck, relishing in the sting he feels. There’s the telltale ache in his lower back that tells him tomorrow will be _hell_ , but he can’t help the dopey smile that tugs at the corners of his lips— the _got-laid_ smile, Anne called it. _Always in a better mood after we have sex, huh sunshine?_

The afterglow (which should’ve died down about twenty minutes ago) stays with him as he unlocks the door to his dark apartment. His alien symbiote brain roommate hasn’t spoken up since he entered the bar, but the silence almost feels normal— like, _before_ Carlton Drake and the symbiotes. With Anne. Only himself for company.

And as said before, it begins innocently. A bar, a hookup, and a jealous alien symbiote.

_‘Eddie.’_

He’s pinned to the wall by his own body— no, _Venom_ — “Venom?” He can’t move. His arm, stuck against the wall, like someone pressing it against the wall. He can’t even clench his hand into a fist. Venom, Venom, Venom, Venom replaces his blood and he _thrums_. His voice shakes. “What the hell, Venom?”

_‘I didn’t like that, Eddie...’_

He can see the black form of the symbiote rising through his skin. Sliding, slithering out to form manacles that chain his wrists to the wall. The slowly solidifying mass cuffing his wrists feel like hands, undulating erratically.

 _‘Whatever he did to you, I can do better,’_ Venom rasps, sliding under the skin of his shoulders. Goosebumps rise on the skin wherever the symbiote goes. He expands from Eddie’s chest almost angrily, tearing through Jake or Jack’s shirt like how he’d torn apart Eddie’s shirt earlier that night.

“Venom, I have to return that— ah!” Eddie exclaims, indignance cut off by a moan from the tendrils smoothing out over his chest. Fuck. Fuuuuck. Normally, the symbiote isn’t dry or wet, the slipperiness brief and fleeting, like— like. There’s nothing like it that Eddie’s ever known. Now its tentacles leave cold trails on his skin, sinking in like a burn except cold. Cold, slick, wet. He shivers uncontrollably.

Several tentacles slick around his bare chest, and he finds himself not pinned to the wall anymore but he can’t— figure out how to work his limbs. He’s being held up by Venom— he’s sure that if not for the symbiote, he’d have crumpled to the floor already.

 _‘He made you feel good. I can make you feel better,’_ hisses the symbiote. Eddie bites back a loud groan when one of Venom’s tendrils slide over his nipple— there’s no point, Venom knows exactly how it makes him feel and he does it again, and teases at his waistband. His knees feel like jello.

 _‘Only I can make you feel good,’_ Venom says, halting his movements. Eddie barely gets a moment to breath before the symbiote is puppeteering him over to his desk, swiping all his paperwork onto the floor— “Venom!” —and slamming his palms to the cleared desktop. _‘Only me.’_ He pulls Eddie’s jeans and briefs to his knees. His dick is embarrassingly hard— how? Fucking _how_. His refractory period was never this— this—

 _‘He was big, but I can be bigger’_ —

“Hey— Venom—” Tendrils slide up his thigh; one winds around his dick, thickening into a sleeve that ripples down the shaft. The other presses at his asshole, and all he can think is _cold but good but cold oh my fucking god good_ at the slickness teasing at his asshole. He swallows each curse and plead on his tongue.

His legs are quivering. Tentacles wind around his balls, tightening and loosening, winding up his dick. So— much— fucking— stimulation— And he’s about to beg when the piece teasing his asshole dips inside him, slipping easily through the tight ring of muscle. It doesn’t feel like it usually would— _probably because he’d already gotten fucked that night_ — but more tendrils—tentacles slip around back, sliding and merging with the piece already inside. Twisting, thickening; pressing against the sides. And the— the sleeve around his dick squeezes. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, he chants in his head, biting his tongue to stop the— “ _Please_ —”

The moment the plead is out of his mouth he snaps it shut, teeth clicking together audibly. _‘Why keep quiet? I can feel everything,’_ Venom says lightly now, teasing. The tentacle in his ass is still getting thicker— it’s so fucking big. Choked; “Fuck— Venom _please_ —”

 _‘You want this.’_ It sounds accusing. But fuck, yes, he fucking does, but he’s sore and tired and he doesn’t want to deal with a— a jealous parasite— _‘Not a parasite,’_ Venom hisses. _‘Not jealous.’_ And to that, he laughs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he breathes. Gently, the tentacle—it feels thicker than a dick by now—moves inside him. Venom’s arm-head protrudes from his back, tongue flicking over his skin—cold, jelly-like— tonguing around his asshole as the tentacle slash dick slides out and in again— “Fuck!” if his hands weren’t pinned to the table, he would be slamming his fist against the desk— it feels like being rimmed and fucked at the same fucking time. He shakes in his skin. “Fuck, fuck do that again please—”

Venom does it again. Venom vibrates around his dick, like a suction; the tentacle slash dick expanding until it hurts more; tongue tickling at his rim.

Eddie chokes on a scream, and comes, toes curling.

When he comes back to himself he’s limp against his desk, Venom curling hesitantly around his shoulders and lower back. He feels like a wrung out dishrag—three times in less than three hours—and he’s over thirty. God damn. _‘You liked that,’_ Venom says almost matter-of-factly. _‘Was I better than him?’_ “Yeah,” Eddie huffs, laughing a little. Jake or Jack was good, but— “Damn, Venom.”

There’s a little twinge that feels like pride. “Bed?” he asks, exhausted. Venom puppets him to his bedroom, depositing his fucked out body on his bed. _‘You won’t wear trashy shirts and find other humans to play with, right?’_ Venom asks, tentatively, not cold anymore—warm—as he curls a tentacle around Eddie’s waist.

It began innocently.

“No more hooking up,” he agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> on twitter @[kingzhys](https://twitter.com/kingzhys)!


End file.
